A Dangerous Love
by NeonFries
Summary: Another story based off a fic prompt. Cato swore to himself he would never fall in love- especially when it came to the Games.


Going into the Games, Cato knows knows _knows_ better than he knows how to handle his sword not to fall in love.

All that means is one of them will die. And Cato knows that one will not be him.

But it doesn't start like that. At first it's actually easy to pretend Clove is just an annoying, buzzing fly, distracting Cato's mentors from their priority. Clove seems pretty intent on this idea herself, so there is a concentrated silence on their short train ride from District 2 to the Capitol, and they rarely see each other after that until it's time for training and the interviews.

The interviews, Cato wishes he would have thought to prepare himself for those because when Clove comes out on to the stage Cato can't seem to stop _staring_, she catches his eye and gives him a sly smile and winks and Cato has to mentally shake himself out of it.

_She's gunning for your death_, he tells himself, and he almost believes it too but she looks so stunning and fragile in that dress with her hair done up in a complicated mess that he wants to protect her from harm. He spends most of the interviews fighting himself on this issue until he's startled out of it by Clove's elbow in his ribs.

"Can you believe that," she cackles, a cold glint in her eye, "that idiot from 12 is in love with his partner! I guess that was what all the hand holding was about. Let's kill them in front of each other."

Cato gives her a smirk and a wink. He thinks they'll get along well.

.

By the time the games start, Cato stands on his circle, hoping against hope someone else will kill Clove right away so he isn't left with the job. It would be a traitorus thing to do, to manuver her into battle with someone she couldn't possibly win against, but he might just have to do it. Maybe that boy from 11 could kill her. He's almost as big as Cato and nearly as violent. Cato cannot wait for the fight with that one. He'll have to try to save him for the end.

But first things first, the sixty seconds are up and Cato is running at the Cornucopia, grabbing a sword. He tests its weight in his hand for a second and makes a few practice swings.

"Hey! Watch it, would you?"

Clove. Crouching next to him, rooting though the piles of weapons for something. But what? Her eyes light up as she comes upon something she likes and withdraws it slowly, savoring the sight of the wickedly curved blade. She raises her eyebrows at Cato.

"You ready?"

It takes them less than a second to work out a method for killing. He above, at neck length, Clove swiping at victims ankles. It's a dirty trick but between them they kill five, not bad for the bloodbath. Cato knows the Capitol is keeping count of individual kills and wonders if they will give him or Clove the odd tribute out.

.

The rest of the games go this way. It's not until nights and several tributes later that Cato is sitting awake, watching Clove sleep and determining if he should choose now to kill her and walk away, when he hears Claudius Templesmith announcing the impossible.

They could both win. Together.

He knows the change was made for Lover Boy and his apathetic girlfriend but it doesn't stop him from shaking Clove awake.

"What," she swats at him, grumpy. "This better be good."

"Better. If we kill everyone else, we can win together." Cato waggles his eyebrows at her seductively.

Clove's eyes light up. "Tomorrow," she whispers, ecstatic, "we kill the lovers."

When Clove curls up, closer to him this time, and falls back asleep Cato looks at her lithe form and decides it is okay now, to like Clove. And he really does like Clove.

.

The next morning is arid and dangerous, as always, but Cato finds himself enjoying the day more than he had imagined.

There would be a feast today.

The feast was good because he and Clove were low on food ever since girl-on-fire took her name to an idiotic new level and blew their supplies to bits. Cato would have his revenge on her for it. That was for sure.

As Cato and Clove work out a plan of attack for the feast, Clove asks something of him.

"Let me kill the girl," she murmurs, her smirk as curved and vicious as her favorite knife.

"What? No!" Cato replies, indignant, "she's mine. I've wanted her from the start. I kill her."

Clove bats her eyelashes at him and grins seductively. She knows she has him. "Please? I'll give the Capitol a great show and you know it."

Cato gives in, but only because he could never deny her anything.

.

Hours later Cato waits, crouched in a cluster of tall grass, waiting for the feast to begin. Clove is elsewhere, on the other side of the Cornucopia, waiting and searching for any tribute stupid enough to give away their location before the feast begins.

Claudius' voice booms from the sky and moments later a table rises up inside the Cornucopia.

District Five dashes out of the Cornucopia, grabbing her bag. Cato's a little disappointed at the loss of a potential kill, but she would be easy enough to spot later, with that fiery target on her head, and she would be no match for his own iron grip.

He turns his attention back on the scene Cornucopia just in time to see Eleven raising a large rock over Clove's quivering form.

"Cato," she shouts.

"Clove," he replies, running at the District Eleven brute with his sword. The rock comes down, but at the last moment swerves off course as Cato's blade pierces Eleven's neck, cleanly severing his head from the rest of his body. Eleven's body falls, twitches, lies still next to Clove's still shaking body.

"That was close," she mutters, as he helps her to her feet.

"No fun, though," he grumbles. There are not enough tributes left to kill, Cato wishes suddenly the feast had brought more tributes, like lambs to the games for his slaughter.

"The Twelve girl got away again," says Clove and suddenly Cato's day is not as wonderful as he had felt before.

.

Cato and Clove find the District Twelve morons easily. It's almost cute how the so called star-crossed lovers have made themselves a little backwards hut. The Capitol audience must be drooling all over themselves, seeing these two trained killers creeping up on their beloved idiotic lovers.

Clove prowls, like a feline predator, to the mouth of the cave where Lover Boy appears passed out, a needle in his arm, with girl-on-fire collapsed on top of him. Rookie mistake to fall asleep during your watch, and this mistake won't go by without consequence. Cato steps into the mouth of the cave and his feet on the gravely surface is all it takes for the girl to wake and aim her bow in his direction.

"Don't move," she hisses, all venom. "This arrow is aimed straight at your heart, and I never miss."

Out of the corner of his eye, Cato sees Clove lunge at Lover Boy and flip, him on top of her, stomach exposed.

Clove growls, "No, don't you move, or we'll get to see the color of Lover Boy's insides."

"Katniss, don't! Just shoot him, I don't matter!" Lover Boy cries. He looks back to Katniss and sees her eyes darting back and forth, what looks like pain in them. Katniss hesitates. Clove snickers.

With a flick of her wrist, Clove slits Lover Boy's stomach right up the middle and he howls in pain, clutching at the wound.

Before Cato can even process what a huge mistake Clove has made there is an arrow in her neck. It quivers as Clove swallows gingerly. Cato is about to lunge before he realizes the arrow didn't quite land right, and is buried in only one side of Clove's neck, allowing her room to breathe and, more importantly, time. Cato just needs a little time to finish Katniss and her boyfriend off, and then the doctors will fix her so he and Clove can start their Victory Tour together. He focuses, and takes a quick note of the scene.

Clove isn't stupid, she knows that leaving the arrow in her neck is her best chance to stay alive. Cato knows he needs to finish Twelve off, now, before Clove loses any more time.

The scene reminds Cato vaguely of another games, years ago, involving a boy with his stomach opened, guts spilling out, and a career, circling her prey like a wolf 'round a cat in a tree. He doesn't remember the way the games ended, but he can guess. Careers always win in the end.

Clove rasps, "Lover boy doesn't have much time. Trust me, I know where I cut him."

Cato is torn between grinning at her use of his words and the fear of her wasting any of her remaining breaths. With the arrow piercing one side of her neck her voice sounds distorted, but still beautiful, still his Clove. He will kill this Twelve runt for her. He will give the Capitol audience the show they were promised, but not that long, because he _needs_ Clove to make it. Dragging his eyes away from Clove, Cato catches Katniss throwing a worried glance at Lover Boy, who is lying very still. He should attack, but before he can move her eyes are locked on to his with such a ferocious look in them that he is almost scared. They both know what is at stake for them in this final battle, and the Capitol is surely on the edge of their seats.

Cato intends to give them a very good show.

He feints left, but Katniss has a hunters sense and is on to him, running around him to the mouth of the cave. She is trying to lead him out of the cave, but he can't leave Clove, not like she is. Cato's will to fight falters as he thinks of the beautiful, malicious girl slowly dying in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Rage flares in his chest, licking his body, turning it an angry red. His vision blurs as he hears Clove call to him.

"Cato," she cries, he turns, halfway to her already, "finish her."

Her words have spurred him, but not in the way she wanted. His turning cost him his life, and before Clove can yell at him to turn around and fight there is an arrow in Cato's neck and he's falling forwards on to his knees.

"Clove," he whispers, slumping to the ground.

A cannon sounds somewhere outside the cave, and simultaneously it begins to rain, thick steel colored sheets, trapping the three survivors in with the body of Cato, the boy who swore he'd never be stupid enough to fall in love.


End file.
